


Music of the Night

by Asteramie (miyakowasure)



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:03:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3406574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyakowasure/pseuds/Asteramie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They are exceptional people; talented and cool, yet warm and friendly. From the very first moment, they feel like a family to him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few weeks ago I found and watched the full version of the Opera MV (the [Japanese version](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xqnfd7_hd-opera-pv-super-junior_music), to be exact) for the first time. Suddenly the plot of this fic appeared into my mind, and I just couldn’t leave it unwritten.

\- - -

 

_When observed from above, the lights of the city look like stars, twinkling in the night like their distant role models somewhere behind the thick cloud layer that is covering the sky._

_Youngwoon leans against the rusty railing of the steep hillside. It’s so dark, he can hardly see the narrow pathway he’s been stumbling uphill for an hour or so. He doesn’t mind the darkness. It doesn’t matter to him. Nothing matters to him anymore. Except maybe the city lights. There is something reassuring in them; something that makes it easier to inhale just one more time, and one more, and one again and again._

_He doesn’t know what makes the city lights so special - they just are._

_Maybe it’s because they make him feel less alone. Maybe it’s because they never tell him he’s useless and hopeless. Or maybe it’s because at least they will look the same every night, no matter what a mess the rest of the world is._

_He grew up in the city, learned its ways and loved it. Now the same city is the one pushing him away, telling him there’s no place for him anymore._

_The only friendly thing in that city is the light of it._

_It’s cold. Youngwoon shivers and rubs his arms with his hands when the wind blows straight through his thin jacket. He wonders if he should have taken another jacket with him but it’s too late now. He’ll just have to bear with the one he has._

_The railing lets out a creaky wail and yields under his weight when he slumps against it again with a sigh. He’s a man, and men don’t mind a bit of cold every now and then._

 

\- - -

 

A rustle of gravel and a sound of small sticks snapping under heavy feet some distance away made Youngwoon twitch his head up. He felt dizzy, as if he had just woken up from a nap, and had to blink a few times to clear his head.

“Who’s there?” he asked into the dark. He wasn’t afraid of anyone who might be taking a nightly walk but he personally preferred not to be surprised in the dark. He supposed the other person would appreciate him announcing his presence before they’d actually bump into each other.

The footsteps stopped, and Youngwoon could only hear his own slow breaths along with the gusty wind that made some dry leaves of the previous autumn dance in his feet.

“What are you doing here?” he heard a low, soft voice asking in the dark as the footsteps started coming closer again, until Youngwoon could see another man who stopped in front of him on the pathway. “Don’t you even have a light with you?”

“I forgot,” Youngwoon said, shrugging. He hadn’t dedicated one thought for such a thing as darkness when he had marched out of the apartment that he had, until a few hours ago, called his home. Well, technically it still was his home, but it wouldn’t be for a long time anymore, so he could as well stop calling it so.

“You forgot,” the man repeated, and Youngwoon thought he heard a hint of amusement in his voice.

Youngwoon pushed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Yeah. I did.”

The man took a long look at him before he stepped closer to the railing and glanced down at the city. Youngwoon couldn't see his face in the dark, but his black silhouette against the dim light was slender and beautiful. It would have made a breathtaking photo, Youngwoon found himself thinking.

“Look, I think you should come with me,” the man said as he turned to look at Youngwoon again. “You’ll freeze if you spend the night out here. I live with a couple of friends but they won’t mind a visitor.”

To be honest Youngwoon wasn’t especially eager to meet any more people, but the man was right about the cold. When the man continued his walk even higher uphill, Youngwoon only hesitated for a second before following him.

“Do you really live up here?” Youngwoon couldn’t help grunting after a long while of walking. “Why would anyone want to live in the middle of such a nowhere?”

“Just wait,” the man said with the warmth of a smile in his voice. “Yes, it’s quite far from everything but you’ll understand soon enough why I like living there.”

The man’s prediction hit the bull’s eye; Youngwoon felt his jaw dropping when he finally saw a building in the end of the pathway. There was a big staircase, and on the both sides if the massive wooden main doors were lanterns with dim lights in them. Most of the windows were black but there were a few windows with the lights on in the rooms behind them. The gabled roof with two chimneys stood out as another black silhouette against the sky. It wasn’t just any building; no, that was almost a castle!

“Well not quite,” the other man laughed when Youngwoon voiced out his amazement, but he sounded pleased all the same. “It’s just a small old manor. It looks much bigger outside than what it is inside, really. It’s just the style of construction - it was built in the beginning of the last century by the Europeans, when such a pompous style was in fashion. In fact, there aren’t even own rooms for everyone.”

“Surely there must be a few rooms that can do for bedrooms for you and your friends,” Youngwoon snorted when he followed the man up the stairs.

“A few, yes,” the man chuckled as he pushed the door open. “But the thing is, a few isn’t quite enough for us.”

 

After the chilly night air the cozy warmth of the hallway of the manor felt like the sweetest thing ever. Youngwoon hadn't even noticed how cold he had been until then.

Youngwoon let his gaze brush across the wooden walls and the stylish, old-fashioned staircase. There was a wine red carpet on the floor, crystal crowns hanging from the ceiling, and old paintings of beautiful landscapes on the walls. For a moment Youngwoon wondered if the things around him could even be real; it sure felt like a fairy tale. The hallway was, indeed, smaller than what one might have expected, but it didn’t lessen the impression an inch. 

“Hi!” said a cheerful voice when the door on the left side opened. “Hey, everyone! Teukie hyung is back!”

A short man with a thin nose, a friendly smile, and the ugliest sweater Youngwoon had ever seen, stepped into the hallway. The man's eyes widened when he saw Youngwoon behind the man who had lead him in.

“Oh,” the short man said and blinked. “Hi. Who are you?”

“Hi,” Youngwoon said slowly, quite unsure what else to do. Before he managed to say more, however, the man with him turned to look at him. Suddenly, Youngwoon forgot everything he might have been thinking until then.

He was the most beautiful man Youngwoon had ever seen, with his delicate features and gentle, twinkling eyes. His dark brown hair was cut short and simple, and it fit him perfectly just like that. There was a dimple on his left cheek, one that became even more obvious when the man's bright smile seemed to light up the whole room.

“I’m sorry!” the man said, his smile turning sheepish. “I just dragged you up here even though we haven’t even been introduced yet!”

“Kim Youngwoon,” Youngwoon offered first, he was an intruder in other people’s home after all.

“Such a nice name,” the short man said with a longing smile, but he fell silent when he received a sharp look from the other man.

“It is a nice name indeed. Have you ever had a nickname though? Full names are so formal; we all use first names or nicknames here. Do you mind if I come up with one for you, too? You’d fit in a bit better!” he said with his shining smile, all in one breath, and Youngwoon shrugged. Even though he found the thought a bit weird, he couldn’t say he minded, either.

“Let’s see,” the man said, obviously pleased when Youngwoon promised he’d answer to a nickname as well. “You have such a nice body type, did you know? So manly and all. Oh now I know! You could be _Kangin_! It’s because you look so strong, and a really nice guy too. It’s always nice when one’s nickname matches with their personality, isn’t it?”

Youngwoon blinked, baffled by the man’s description of him. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree with the man’s opinion. In fact, in the privacy of his mind he rather agreed with him. But how could such a new acquaintance read him like that so soon?

“You can call me Leeteuk,” the man said, his smile never fading. “For some reason these brats also like to call me Teukie. You can choose either one, as you wish.”

“My name is Ryeowook,” the short man said and gave Youngwoon a friendly smile. “Don’t mind hyung; he’s always like that. He’s the oldest of us all but he’s the biggest kid, really.”

“Of you all?” Youngwoon chuckled. Ryeowook talked about himself and Leeteuk and their supposed third flatmate as if they were a whole classroom of kids instead of three men.

He got an answer to his question soon, when another face appeared into the doorstep; a tall man with a fluffy black hair and thin yet wide eyes.

“What are you keeping him in the hallway for,” the man scolded Ryeowook with a soft fake-slap on the back of his head. “Everyone’s waiting in the table already.”

Everyone?

The third man, called Yesung as Youngwoon got to know as soon as Leeteuk pushed him through the door into the dinner room, was not the last roommate Youngwoon had supposed he would have been. Neither was the tall handsome man called Siwon nor the two inseparable rascals that Youngwoon soon learned to know as Eunhyuk and Donghae. Even after them there were still the funny guy called Shindong, the snarky one called Heechul, the one with the darkest eyes Youngwoon had ever seen - he was called Kyuhyun - and a quiet, serene-looking guy named Sungmin.

There weren’t three young men living in the manor. There were ten of them.

 

\- - -


	2. Chapter 2

 

“You must stay overnight,” Leeteuk said at some point during the dinner. He looked into Youngwoon’s eyes in a way that made him feel like the other man could see through his skin, right into his soul. “There’s a rainstorm coming and many places along the pathway get really muddy and slippery when getting wet.”

“I couldn’t bother you like that,” Youngwoon refused, shaking his head, but Leeteuk cut his objections short with the most authoritative voice Youngwoon had heard from him the whole time.

“We can’t let you out into such a horrible weather. Stay, Kangin. Please,” he added the last word in a softer voice and a sheepish smile, as if he was feeling embarrassed for having been so bossy.

“Well, fine,” Youngwoon agreed. “I’m sorry to intrude.”

“Not at all!” Ryeowook answered for the whole group and everyone added in their approving nods and murmurs. “I’ll prepare you a place to sleep in--”

“My room,” Leeteuk interrupted him. “There’s room for him too.”

Siwon, Donghae, and Sungmin glanced at each other but nobody said anything. Ryeowook simply nodded. As they continued the dinner Youngwoon secretly observed Leeteuk from under his brows. There was something intriguing in that man, beside his fine looks, and Youngwoon couldn’t help feeling drawn to him. He couldn’t explain it; he couldn’t even tell if it was attraction or simple curiosity. But he knew he wanted to know more about this man.

“How did you guys even end up living here?” Youngwoon asked Eunhyuk who was sitting next to him, and the man chuckled.

“The house is cool but the location sucks so the rent isn’t that big to begin with, and when you divide that by ten it’s almost nothing.”

Youngwoon nodded. He hadn't seen a car at the yard but he supposed there must be one. How else the men would transport themselves to the city for work? Maybe one of them could take the car and drop him back to his home the next day. _It’s not your home anymore_ , Youngwoon reminded himself. Suddenly he envied his new acquaintances for their housing arrangement.

 

“Sorry to intrude,” Youngwoon murmured when he stepped into Leeteuk’s room, and almost bumped into Leeteuk when the man abruptly stopped and turned around.

“I don’t want to hear that nonsense anymore,” he said with a friendly yet firm tone. “I asked you to come along, and I invited you in. I wanted to let you sleep here. You aren’t responsible for those things so you shouldn’t apologize for such them.”

Youngwoon promised he wouldn't.

The room was tiny, and after the two beds, a working desk and a wardrobe on the walls there wasn't much room in the middle of the floor. One of the beds seemed unused, and Leeteuk rushed to clear up the few pieces of clothing that had been lying on it.

It had been ages since Youngwoon had lived with anyone, and it felt weird at first to go to sleep when there was another person in the room. When the both of them were comfortable under their duvets, Leeteuk turned to his side so he was facing towards Youngwoon. 

“Say, Kangin,” he asked, “what were you doing out there?”

The rain had started and heavy raindrops bombed against the window and the windowsill. There was an eerie knocking noise whenever some branches of nearby trees hit the glass. Youngwoon listened to the noises and stared into the darkness without seeing anything.

“The lights,” he finally said slowly. “I wanted to see the lights.”

“Of the city?” Leeteuk specified and Youngwoon simply nodded, unconcerned if the other man heard it or not.

“What were _you_ doing out there?” he repeated the man’s question after a while.

“Just having a walk,” Leeteuk said and the rustle of his sheets told Youngwoon he turned on his other side. “I haven’t had time for a good long walk in a few days so I decided to go today. You were lucky I happened to meet you. And it was nice to get you visit us. Everyone really liked you, you know. I heard Eunhyuk and Donghae talking about you before we came upstairs. They think you’re a good guy.”

“I’m flattered,” Youngwoon murmured and suppressed a yawn. “What’s with the nicknames?” he then asked the question that had been bothering him for a while.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Leeteuk chuckled softly. “We like them.”

“What’s your real name?”

“You ask too many questions, Kangin,” Leeteuk laughed. “It’s late. We should be sleeping already. Good night.”

“Night,” Youngwoon said, frowning in the dark. He wasn’t satisfied with the other man’s evasiveness. It was obvious that Leeteuk didn’t want to talk about the name matter, and Youngwoon was curious to know why.

 

\- - -

 

_His dreams are absurd in their incoherence. On one moment he’s all alone in the dark, shivering of cold. On the other moment he finds himself surrounded by friendly people and the kind of warmth he hasn’t felt in ages._

 


	3. Chapter 3

When Youngwoon woke up on the morning, Leeteuk’s bed was already empty and neatly made. Youngwoon got up and took his jacket and jeans from the chair on which he had hung them the last night. He pulled the jeans on and left downstairs while still fiddling with the zipper of the jacket.

Ryeowook was in the kitchen, already starting the preparations of the lunch while Shindong collected away breakfast dishes.

“Morning,” Youngwoon said and the both men turned to look at him.

“Morning,” they answered and Shindong dropped everything back to the table again, beckoning towards them. “Have some food. I only started collecting them away since we weren’t sure if you’d wake up for breakfast at all.”

Youngwoon sat down and made himself a toast.

“There’s one fried egg left for him in the fridge,” Ryeowook said and Shindong went to get the plate. “Give it to me, I’ll warm it again,” Ryeowook continued and reached for the frying pan. “And pour him some coffee.”

“It’s your cooking turn this morning?” Youngwoon asked conversationally while munching his toast. Shindong who had brought him the coffee and sat down on the other side of the table to finish his own coffee laughed aloud.

“Every day is his cooking day,” he smirked, and Ryeowook gave Youngwoon a wry smile.

“You should see these guys cooking. There’s no way I could leave them alone in the kitchen even for a minute. Everyone else has their own cooking turn though so I always have company.”

“Who cooks when you’re at work?” Youngwoon asked. 

Ryeowook shook his head. “I work from home,” he said with a small smile as he brought the warm fried egg to Youngwoon.

“He’s a musician,” Shindong interjected. “He makes song lyrics for a few different production companies. And he's an amazing singer, too!”

“Stop fawning on me, I’m not going to release you from the kitchen duty! I’m nothing when compared to Yesung and you know it,” Ryeowook snapped but he was smiling all the same. Youngwoon felt the corners of his mouth pulling up. The two men’s bantering was somehow homelike.

“Where is everyone?” he asked, taking a sip from his coffee mug.

“Yesung hyung is in the stage hall I guess,” Ryeowook said. “He’s practicing. Let’s go and watch when you’re finished! Heechul hyung is probably in his room, learning his lines and taking selcas with his new phone. Leeteuk hyung left to the town in the morning with Siwon. They should be back by afternoon. I don’t remember where the others went today.”

“Kyuhyun, Sungmin, Eunhyuk, and Donghae are in their room. They're working on the new script,” Shindong said. “Minnie said they’d try to finish it by tonight so they could send it ahead.”

Learning lines and working on scripts, Youngwoon repeated in his mind and blinked. It was all so familiar.

“Are you guys working for some theater?” he asked slowly, and wasn’t even surprised when Ryeowook nodded.

“We’re all members of the same amateur theater,” he said. “It's not quite enough to make a living with though, so we have individual projects as well. Acting, songmaking, arranging, such things.”

“That’s what I do as well!” Youngwoon exclaimed. “What a coincidence!”

“Coincidence? I wonder if there are such things as coincidences in this world,” Ryeowook said quietly, almost like he was talking to himself.

“Oh my god, I need to go!” Shindong cried out as if the talk about their occupations had just reminded him of how late in the morning it already was. He jumped up from the table and almost threw his empty mug into the kitchen sink. “See you later!”

“So much for helping me,” Ryeowook chuckled but waved his hand after the man anyway.

“I can help you,” Youngwoon offered and got a thankful smile from the shorter man.

 

Once they had cleaned up the table, Ryeowook gestured Youngwoon to follow him. He lead them across the entrance hall to the other side of the building, to beautifully decorated wooden pair doors. Youngwoon could hear faint music and singing through the doors but the both stopped when Ryeowook knocked on the door and stepped into the room, Youngwoon following after him.

The room was spacious and full of light that beamed into the room from the big windows. By the walls there were a few chairs here and there, and at the other end of the room there was a wide stage on which Yesung stood in front of a dark red velvet curtain, holding a remote control in his hand.

"Are we disturbing you?" Ryeowook asked, his hand still on the door handle. Yesung shook his head.

"You could never disturb me and you know it," he said in such a gentle tone, Youngwoon thought they must be really close.

"I know," Ryeowook said smiling and closed the door. "We just wanted to hear you practice."

"What would you like to hear?" Yesung asked Youngwoon and nodded towards a cd player placed on the floor next to the wall plug and a pile of CDs next to it. "Choose any song; they're all my own background tracks."

"May I?" Ryeowook rushed to ask and Youngwoon nodded. He could as well let Ryeowook choose since he seemed to have favorites among Yesung’s songs.

"Really, Wookie?" was Yesung’s amused chuckle when he heard the first sounds of the song and crouched to put away the remote control that supposedly worked with the CD player.

"Really, hyung," Ryeowook answered with a similar smile, like he knew exactly what the other man was thinking about.

Yesung let out a small laugh, took a straight posture, raised his gaze up towards the back of room, and started singing.

The low murmur of his voice pulled Youngwoon right into the world of the lyrics. They were at war. Yesung was their leader, taking his troops and giving them orders. He, Kangin, was one of the men under his command. They had just joined with the Chinese soldiers. 

Kangin shifted the bow in his hands into a better position. Senses sharpened up with excitement he kept looking around, noticing even the smallest details around him. He heard distant noise somewhere further and knew their allies were already fighting to keep the enemy’s attention at the East gate. He smelled smoke that hung in the air and frost that crept across the slopes of the mountain with a premonition of snow.

The hundreds of men around him shifted on their places but no-one showed a sign of fear. When Yesung turned to face them and raised his voice, every man, Kangin included, felt the fierce strength it carried over.

"Bring down the king!" Yesung yelled. "Don't we deserve better than the nothing he now offers us?"

The soldiers screamed out their furious agreement. 

"Raise our flags and draw your swords and bows; aim for the Namhan fortress!”

The sight of their red flags being lifted up made Kangin’s chest swell with pride. Finally, after so many years of the king’s indifference about his people’s wellbeing, there was about to be some justice in this land.

“Behead every general of East, West, South, and North! Go for victory!"

The terrifying battle-cry echoed in Kangin’s ears together with the loud thumping of his own heartbeat. There were screams up on the fortress - the enemies had finally noticed them. Kangin squeezed his bow in his hand and smiled when he placed an arrow ready on the string.

It was time to fight.

 

The song faded out. Youngwoon blinked. He shivered as his strained muscles suddenly relaxed again even though adrenaline was still rushing in his veins. Yesung stood alone on the empty stage, looking down and holding his own shaking hands, breathing in heavy gasps. Small particles of dust played in the air on the spots where lights and shadows from the window rippled on the floor. Only Ryeowook's hoarse whisper broke the dead silence of the room.

"Told you he's amazing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesung's song: [The Trap of North Gate](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tRTJ171i5M4) from the Namhansanseong musical.


	4. Chapter 4

While making lunch Ryeowook kept chattering endlessly, talking about Yesung’s songs and Heechul’s acting and Eunhyuk’s dancing and basically everyone’s everything. His sincerity made it clear how proud he was of his friends’ skills when it came to stage arts but he never said anything about himself.

“Ryeowook,” Youngwoon finally interrupted, “Shindong said you make song lyrics. Can I see them?”

The shorter man looked at him in surprise, hesitating for a moment before he nodded.

“Sure,” he said. “Open the last drawer there - no, the last in the next row. Under the towels.”

Youngwoon opened the drawer. “You keep your lyrics in the kitchen?” he asked, moving clean kitchen towels aside until he found a bunch of notebooks on the bottom of the drawer.

“The guys are always so curious and meddlesome,” Ryeowook defended himself. “This is the only place in the house where none of them will look around and see my lyrics before I’ve polished them up.”

“You don’t like people seeing your work when it’s still on progress?” Youngwoon asked and slammed shut the notebook he was currently holding, but Ryeowook shook his head.

“Well, I don't. But I already told you it’s okay. Look as much you want to.”

Youngwoon opened the notebook again, flipping through the full pages of tiny, neat handwriting. Ryeowook’s lyrics were as good as Shindong had advertised, or maybe even better. The lines covered the whole vivid range of human feelings; the joy of friendship was in there, as well as the pinching sorrow of a great loss. There was the frivolous arrogance of youth and the anxiety of being uncertain about one’s own path in life. There were the innocent dreams of a young girl and the old wisdom of an old man, all weaved into that beautiful collection of words.

On the last page of the notebook there were only a few lines.

 

_Lately, I’ve been confused about you,  
and even more about myself.  
Are we friends? Are we dating?  
Friends closer than lovers?_

_Bit by bit, I’m giving my heart to you._

 

Suddenly, Youngwoon thought he knew exactly what the look in Ryeowook’s eyes had been when they had talked with Yesung for a moment before leaving him alone again.

“You should see us all performing together,” Ryeowook kept on talking, unaware of Youngwoon's musings. “My hyungs are amazing. And Kyuhyun, of course, even though he’s not a hyung for real. Look, I know! Today when everyone comes back, we’ll gather into the stage hall and do something fun together!”

So they did. In constantly growing amusement Youngwoon followed how Ryeowook, without any problem, managed to lure all his friends to leave their work in their rooms and have some fun in the evening.

 

“So you are an actor,” Heechul said when they were all sitting on the floor of the stage hall. There were cans of beer and coke around them, and bowls of snacks in the middle of the circle.

“Yeah,” Youngwoon agreed with a proud nod.

“What’s the best role you can do?” Heechul continued. “Either your favorite or the one you’re the best at, if those two are different roles.”

Tilting his head, Youngwoon gave it a thought. He had liked almost all his roles. There were so many to choose from. On the other hand, he knew exactly what he was best at.

“The Phantom,” he said, “from the Phantom of the Opera. I wasn’t originally casted for it; I was just an understudy. But the main actor got food poisoning in the middle of the first week of the play, so they needed me to do it. It was amazing.” Youngwoon smiled at his own memories. “I had never acted in front of such a big audience yet, and that play has always been one of my favorites.”

“Show us?” Sungmin asked and the others eagerly agreed with him.

“We’ve all seen the play anyway,” Eunhyuk said, nodding vigorously. “Just improvise whenever you’d need any props.”

“He needs a Christine though,” Shindong said, winking at Youngwoon. “I’d suggest this Donghae here; he’s the prettiest we can offer for now. ”

“Wookie is pretty as well,” Kyuhyun pointed out, “and he sounds more like Christine."

“You do it,” Heechul said and nudged Leeteuk ahead.

Leeteuk’s face was perplexed when he pointed at himself. “Me?” he asked. “I’m not that pretty, and I can’t sing - at least not Christine’s lines! I can’t even hit half of her notes.”

“You don’t need to sing,” Youngwoon rushed to comfort him. He liked the idea of Leeteuk acting Christine’s role for him.

“You look like a girl anyway,” Heechul chuckled. “Sure, Ryeowook makes a prettier girl anytime but he has never acted in the Phantom of the Opera while you have.”

“Really?” Youngwoon asked, looking at Leeteuk who glared at Heechul. “Which role did you do?”

“I… uh. Raoul.”

“I should have guessed,” Youngwoon laughed as he stood up and climbed up to the stage, offering his hand to help Leeteuk on the stage as well. “C’mon my lady, let’s show them some real acting!”

_Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation.  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination!  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses..._

It had been a couple of years since his role as the Phantom but Youngwoon still remembered every line by heart. He concentrated on feeling what he had felt back then: the incredulous happiness of finally having reached the girl he had loved so deeply for such a long time.

It wasn’t a girl in front of him. It wasn’t Christine. It was Leeteuk who was very much of a man. Youngwoon found out it didn’t matter to him. He was almost surprised at how easy it was to look into Leeteuk’s eyes while singing.

_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams,  
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before!  
Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar,  
And you'll live as you've never lived before._

For half a second, Leeteuk froze as he stared up into Youngwoon’s eyes. And then, all of a sudden, Youngwoon felt an incredible wave of _want_ towards the man. He couldn’t explain it but starting from that moment he was singing right to him, and to him only. 

He didn’t need a Christine. All he needed was this man who took his hand without hesitation and never broke the eye contact as he followed Youngwoon across the stage and let Youngwoon pull him closer until their chests brushed together when they breathed.

_Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind,  
In this darkness that you know you cannot fight.  
The darkness of the music of the night._

Somewhere in the deepest back of his mind Youngwoon wondered if he was crazy. He had only known Leeteuk for one day.

He didn’t care.

_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication...  
Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation!_

Leeteuk’s slender body was warm under his hands when Youngwoon turned the man around and pulled him closer, Leeteuk’s back against his chest. Leeteuk reached his hand up behind Youngwoon’s neck and slowly dragged it to his neck, turning his head until Youngwoon could brush the man’s cheek and temple with his nose while he sang to him. Leeteuk shivered under his touch and Youngwoon felt more than heard his silent gasp of breathe when he pressed just a tiny bit closer to the man.

_You alone can make my song take flight.  
Help me make the music of the night!_

The silence awakened Youngwoon into his senses again. He opened his eyes and took a quick step back. Had music always had such an effect on him as it seemed to have today? He felt his cheeks burning of embarrassment and he didn't quite dare to look at the nine men who sat on the floor in front of the stage. He was even more careful not to look at Leeteuk who stood where Youngwoon had left him, unmoving and quiet.

“Damn, hyung, that was hot!” Donghae exclaimed. Heechul facepalmed with his right hand and slapped the back of Donghae’s head with the left, making the man wince. “But it was!”

Three seconds later the rest of the men burst into applause, clapping their hands and whistling. Youngwoon could only smile and make a show of bowing deep like he had just finished a marvellous musical, wishing fervently they didn’t see his bafflement. 

Why was Leeteuk so silent? Youngwoon was pretty sure he had just managed to cross at least five different lines common morale and the other man's personal space. Leeteuk must be thinking of him as a complete jerk now.

“Oh, he’s absolutely right,” Leeteuk abruptly laughed and turned around to throw his arm across Youngwoon’s shoulders. “It was hot! You’ve definitely convinced me about your acting,” he said to Youngwoon, and his face was full of innocent mirth when he turned to answer to his friends' comments and jokes and laugh along with them.

The others climbed up to the stage and started comparing different ways to act several other scenes of the same musical. They pulled Leeteuk along into their bantering and playing, and their laughter echoed in the big room. 

Youngwoon forced himself to laugh along with them. After a while he didn't need to try anymore, and he was truly having fun. But at the same time he couldn’t forget what Leeteuk's hand had felt on his shoulder. It had been so warm and strong, and possessive in a way that made his heartbeat soar days after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryeowook's lyrics: [Falling in Love with a Friend](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBRmCL4LmEU)
> 
> [Music of the Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=77umP7IRxD4) from Phantom of the Opera


	5. Chapter 5

_They are exceptional people; talented and cool, yet warm and friendly. From the very first moments, they feel like a family to him._

_When they sing their voices make him shiver with all the emotions they awaken in him, and when they dance their steps are light and their moves synchronized to perfection._

_In their own different ways they are all wonderful to look at. But for Youngwoon the most beautiful one is the oldest one; the lean man with soft eyes and a shining smile._

_Sometimes there is a weird look in their eyes; a fleeting touch of sadness that makes Youngwoon wonder about it. But he doesn’t dwell in it, and he always forgets about it soon._

 

\- - -

 

Since Youngwoon was jobless now and had nothing special to do, it was easy to slip into the habit of being Ryeowook’s constant kitchen slave and thus save all the others from their cooking duties. Because of him, Ryeowook as well had more time to sit down to compose his lyrics.

Youngwoon was washing the dishes of the lunch when he remembered something that had attracted his attention some time ago.

“Say, Ryeowook,” he asked, and Ryeowook let out a hum to let Youngwoon know he was listening. “The other day, I saw a ring on Sungmin’s ring finger. Why is he living with you guys when he’s married? Where’s his wife?”

Ryeowook’s pencil stopped moving on the notebook page he had open but apart from that nothing indicated that he had heard a question. Youngwoon frowned.

“Am I wrong? It looks like a wedding ring though. He is married, right?”

“He was,” Ryeowook said slowly, evading Youngwoon’s eyes.

“Oh,” Youngwoon said, suddenly feeling deep sympathy towards the quiet man. “What happened?”

“Isn’t there only one thing in the world that can do two lawfully wed lovebirds part?” Ryeowook sighed, answering with a question and taking a quick glance towards Youngwoon before looking down at his papers again. There was a small, sad smile on his face. “It’s a good thing you decided to ask me instead of him. You know, it wasn’t that long ago and he’s not quite over it yet.”

Youngwoon nodded. He understood. He wouldn’t talk about it to Sungmin, and it was probably better not to press Ryeowook too much, either. He turned back to the dishes and fell back into his deep thoughts again. For a moment it was silent in the kitchen; only the clock on the wall kept on with its steady ticking.

“ _For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo,_ ” Ryeowook murmured under his breath. Youngwoon glanced at the man over his shoulder but he said nothing.

The door of the kitchen opened and Leeteuk peeked into the room.

“Here you are! Wookie, you don’t mind if I borrow him for a moment or two do you?”

“It’s fine,” Ryeowook chuckled. “Just return him by dinnertime, please.”

“Hey!” Youngwoon chuckled. “What am I? A pet dog?”

“A very big one,” Leeteuk said after an evaluating glance from his head to toes. “Come on, I need help.”

 

What Leeteuk needed help for was an arrangement of a musical for children.

“Sound of music?” Youngwoon said when seeing the script. “Isn’t this a children’s story to begin with? Or fitting for kids at least?”

“Fitting for them, yes,” Leeteuk nodded, “and it would be fine as it is if there were adults playing all the roles. But this time it needs to be simple enough for children to act the roles. Can you help me?”

“Do I look like I know what is simple enough a role for a child?” Youngwoon chuckled, but Leeteuk wouldn’t listen to him. Instead, he got another chair and made Youngwoon, too, sit down by the table so they could edit the script together.

“So there are seven children, the Captain, and Maria,” Leeteuk murmured, making small notes on the edge of the papers. “The actors for Maria and Captain have some experience, but all the children will be completely new to acting.”

“Will they be around the same age as the kids in the original story?” Youngwoon asked and got a nod from Leeteuk.

“Yeah. Actors for Maria, the Captain, Liesel, and Friedrich will be high school students while all the others will be younger. Although I guess they’ll choose someone who is already in elementary school for Gretl’s role. How will I know if this is simple enough for an elementary schooler?” Leeteuk moaned in frustration and leaned his chin on his palm.

“You could ask Ryeowook to act the roles of the youngest kids,” Youngwoon suggested, grinning. “So you could hear how it sounds like with Gretl’s voice, for example.”

“Why, Kangin, that’s mean!” Leeteuk cried out but he laughed at the same time, and his giggle was so funny, Youngwoon couldn’t help laughing as well. “Imagine those guys as these children,” Leeteuk continued, “that would be hilarious! Imagine Eunhyuk as Kurt, and Sungmin as Birgitta!”

“Yeah, and Yesung would definitely be Friedrich,” Youngwoon agreed, causing Leeteuk snicker again.

“And Donghae would totally be Liesel!” he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

“What are you talking about? Liesel would so be _your_ role!” Youngwoon snorted. “You are the oldest one!” And prettiest, he added in his mind.

“I guess I can’t help it,” Leeteuk chuckled. “Shindong would be a perfect Maria, he’s done female roles before, and Siwon would of course be the Captain!”

“Who’s left?” Youngwoon asked. “Heechul, Donghae and Kyuhyun?”

“But there are only two children left,” Leeteuk said, leaning back on his seat and crossing his arms. He gave it such a serious thought, it looked as if they were actually having a real problem there. “That would make Kyuhyun as Louisa, and Donghae as Marta, right? Heechul would be the perfect actor for the role of the Captain’s almost-fiancée!”

“So we have a role for everyone,” Youngwoon said, laughing again.

“Not everyone yet,” Leeteuk said and turned to look at Youngwoon. “What’s your role?”

“Mine?” Youngwoon asked, surprised. He hadn’t expected to be included just like that. “Maybe I could be the Abbess,” he suggested, grinning, but Leeteuk shook his head, a serious look in his eyes.

“No. You should be Rolf. His role would fit you.”

“Because I look like a gullible teenager?” Youngwoon asked, but he didn’t hear Leeteuk’s answer as there was a knock on the door and Ryeowook’s apologetic voice.

“Hyung,” he called through the door, “I'm sorry to disturb but I need him back now if we’re to have dinner in time.”

Only later, when cutting carrots for the dinner, Youngwoon remembered that Rolf had also been something like Liesel’s boyfriend.

 

Arranging the script took a few days, and Youngwoon found himself working together with Leeteuk more often than not. They went through each scene several times, reading the dialogue aloud and making changes, polishing the script up until Youngwoon thought it was perfect, and a bit more even after that. Youngwoon was fascinated by the careful effort and thought that Leeteuk paid to the play. Evidently the man considered a children’s play no less valuable than a play for grown-up actors. Such attitude made an impression on Youngwoon who, along the years of his career, seen enough actors and screenwriters who thought children’s plays were of secondary importance to what they called real theatre.

It was in the middle of such an editing session that Youngwoon noticed Leeteuk staring at him while he was reading through the newest additions into the current scene.

“Huh?” Youngwoon chuckled. “What is it?”

“What were you doing out there that night?” Leeteuk asked out of a sudden.

Youngwoon, sitting on his bed with a bunch of paper, leaned back and looked out of the window. What had he been doing?

“Nothing,” Youngwoon said truthfully. “I mean it,” he rushed to add when Leeteuk looked at him with a blank face that told him to stop talking such nonsense. “I wasn’t doing anything. I just needed to get some distance between myself and…”

“Yourself and?” Leeteuk prompted when Youngwoon fell silent again.

“My job. My home. My friends. My parents. My life.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

What wasn’t wrong with them, Youngwoon wondered, letting out a bitter laugh. He wasn’t very eager to talk about any of them. However, with small yet to-the-point questions and what seemed like endless patience, Leeteuk dug the whole story out of him. How the amateur theatre Youngwoon had been a member of had been forced to discontinue its activity due to financial problems. How Youngwoon had hated his office job and had, while mourning for the theatre, gotten unfairly scolded by his boss for not paying proper attention to his duties. How his friends and parents seemed to think he should have aimed higher in the first place, and that it was his own fault for not having been ambitious enough when it came to being a member of the working society. Nobody seemed to understand his ambitions had always been much higher than any office work could ever be.

“I always wanted to be a professional actor,” Youngwoon said, staring at the darkening evening behind the window. “I never thought I’d end up working in such a crappy office.”

Leeteuk nodded, his face sympathetic.

“I understand. It always sucks when you realize your everyday life is taking you further away of your dreams.”

Something in the man’s tone told Youngwoon it was experience that talked there, but Youngwoon couldn’t bring himself ask about it. He was still too invested in his own gloomy thoughts.

“What’s wrong with your home, though?” Leeteuk asked.

Youngwoon shook his head, offering Leeteuk a joyless smile. “Someone decided that the city needs a new parking garage. They bought all the properties within the block and will start pulling the old houses down next month. Unless I find a new apartment within a few weeks, I’ll be homeless soon.”

“While looking for a new place,” Leeteuk murmured, “you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to.”

Blinking, Youngwoon slowly turned his gaze towards the other man. Leeteuk carefully avoided looking into his eyes but there was a hint of a sheepish smile on his face as he fiddled with the pencil in his hands and waited for Youngwoon’s reaction.

“I couldn’t disturb you like that,” Youngwoon started, and quickly dodged when Leeteuk threw him with the pencil.

“We’ve discussed this before haven’t we? It’s not like you’re disturbing us; quite the contrary!” Leeteuk was laughing but there was a hint of scolding his tone. Then, as if talking to himself again, he continued in a low, soft voice. “I truly wish you’d stay.”

There it was again; the feeling of yearning towards the man sitting by the desk. Youngwoon suppressed a shiver and fought down the urge to reach over the distance between them and pull the man into his arms. He looked down at the script again but his eyes didn’t see the text on it. He was suddenly aware of the man’s scent that filled the whole room. He felt warm where the memory of Leeteuk’s touch ghosted along his skin.

“Kangin,” Leeteuk said quietly as he stood up and put his hand on Youngwoon’s shoulder, “what is it? Are you all right?”

Youngwoon could hardly nod before he quickly stood up as well, stepping closer to the door.

“I think I heard Ryeowook calling me downstairs,” he stammered, grabbing the door handle. “I’ll go and see what he had to say.”

“Wait,” Leeteuk said, his eyes wide and anxious. “I didn’t… I didn’t scare you away, did I?”

Youngwoon studied Leeteuk’s face, surprised by the keen tone of his question. He shook his head and offered the man a soothing smile.

“You didn’t,” he said. “Don’t worry. Let’s continue with the script tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Leeteuk said and Youngwoon left the room. At the corridor he stopped for a moment, staring at a beautiful painting of a dark, stormy sea on the wall. He could almost hear the deep rumble of the waves breaking against the shore. Funnily enough, the painting felt more like a window directly into his current feelings.

 

Avoiding the problem did nothing to it, except maybe help it grow bigger day by day. Youngwoon couldn’t remember if he had ever in his life been so attracted to someone or felt so distracted by them. He wasn’t exactly desperate; his whole life did not revolve around Leeteuk. And yet it did, in a way. 

At some point Youngwoon realized he _always_ knew where Leeteuk was at any moment. His gaze followed Leeteuk’s back when the man left the breakfast table and left for work, and he could always hear the noise of the door when Leeteuk returned. Even when he wasn’t listening to the others’ talking, his ears always caught Leeteuk’s name in the middle of their chatter. Youngwoon knew when Leeteuk fell asleep and he knew when the man woke up.

Sometimes Youngwoon couldn’t help spying on the man a bit, whenever he thought he was alone. Leeteuk had a rather strange habit of aimlessly wandering around the house without destination, a gloomy, lonely look on his face. Whenever he looked like that, Youngwoon wanted to step out from wherever he was hiding, and go to offer his comfort for the man. But he couldn’t. The look on his eyes indicated a sorrow too personal to be shared with a stranger.

As much as Youngwoon worried over Leeteuk’s sadness whenever the man was alone, he rejoiced when seeing him interact with the other men in the house. Their closeness was so obvious, their mutual trust so deep, it made Youngwoon rather jealous. He, too, ached for such a bond with other people.

They were little things, he realized, the kind of little that made up the biggest things in the end. It was the way Leeteuk always worried of the well-being of the younger ones and how Heechul in turn kept an eye on him. It was things like Ryeowook’s willingness to be of help for the others, and Sungmin’s quiet empathy whenever one of them had worries on their heart.

They rarely said it aloud, but it was obvious from their behavior how important the men were to each other.

“I like you guys,” Youngwoon blurted out one evening when they had already gone to bed. “But it’s embarrassing to say so please don’t make me do it again.”

There was a long silence, and Youngwoon thought Leeteuk had already fallen asleep before his sudden confession. Then he heard a quiet laughter on the opposite side of the small room.

“I’m happy to hear it,” Leeteuk said, the tone of his voice warmed up by a smile.

There was another moment of silence, but this time Youngwoon could tell by the noise of the other man’s breathing that he was still awake.

“I’m not sleepy,” Leeteuk suddenly complained. “Are you?”

“Not really,” Youngwoon said. It wasn’t exactly a lie; he was tired enough to sleep but not too tired to stay awake if needed. “Want to talk about something?”

“Not here,” Leeteuk murmured. “I don’t want to disturb the others. These walls are not soundproof.”

Without further explanations Leeteuk quietly got up from his bed and tiptoed to the door, with only a glance towards Youngwoon before he left the room. Youngwoon blinked a couple of times before stumbling after the man.

He followed after Leeteuk down the stairs and into the kitchen where Leeteuk put a kettle on the oven.

“Tea?” he asked. Youngwoon nodded, and Leeteuk turned back to the kitchen cupboards. “I wonder where Wookie keeps the tea bags…”

“Even I know that much,” Youngwoon chuckled, stepped to his side and opened one of the cupboards. “Here.”

“Thank you,” Leeteuk breathed and took the offered cardboard box, looking directly up into Youngwoon’s eyes. Youngwoon’s heart made an uncomfortable flip, and he quickly looked away. He wanted to kiss Leeteuk. He wanted to reach over and hold the man so badly, his hands were actually itching of the feeling.

“No problem,” he stammered and took a step backward before he’d accidentally do something he shouldn’t. He wondered if he only imagined the flash of disappointment on Leeteuk’s face.

“I should know,” Leeteuk murmured sheepishly. “I guess if I did my kitchen duty more often--”

“You don’t have to,” Youngwoon interrupted him with what he wished was a relaxed, cool comment. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“You have no idea how much of help you’ve been,” Leeteuk admitted, his smile thankful when he reached to take two mugs from the dish dryer. “Did you know you’re the only one of us that Wookie allows to stay alone in the kitchen?”

“I’ve gathered that much,” Youngwoon said with a grin. “But tell me, why is he always here? He definitely isn’t cooking for this bunch twelve hours a day.”

“He seems to like it here,” Leeteuk said, shrugging and then smiling. “Maybe he was a cook in his former life?”

“In a dozen of former lives, with how fond he seems to be with this room,” Youngwoon chuckled and took a seat by the table.

“Maybe.”

The water in the kettle was boiling and Leeteuk poured it into the two mugs, threw in the teabags and carried the mugs to the table.

“I guess he kind of considers the kitchen as his own room, in a way,” Leeteuk continued when he sat down on his usual place at the end of the table. “I don’t think he minds sharing the bedroom with Yesung though. It’s just that everyone need some time to be alone, sometimes. It’s not like Ryeowook cooks every minute he spends here. This is where he can have his alone time as well.”

Youngwoon nodded and took a sip from his tea. “I wonder if I disturb him by spending so much time in the kitchen as well.”

“Trust me, he’d tell you to go away if you did,” Leeteuk said. “He’s much more than the tiny Cinderella he looks like.”

“Sharing the roles of Disney princesses for each one of us, now?” Youngwoon chuckled. “How about the others? Tell me something about them they won’t tell by themselves.”

“Well… Years ago Siwon used to own the ugliest dog one could ever imagine,” Leeteuk said and grinned. “But he loved that distortion of a creature more than I can tell you.”

Youngwoon raised his brows. “What happened to that dog?”

“Oh, nothing bad. He just became old and died,” Leeteuk said, letting out a nostalgic chuckle when he looked at his mug. “What else… well, Shindong not-so-very-secretly likes furnishing and decorating places. Sometimes he just gets these fits where he moves around all the furniture in the house and arranges each piece again. And every year we have such amazing New Year’s decorations, you wouldn’t believe it!”

“I wish I could see it,” Youngwoon said, and truly meant it.

Leeteuk nodded like he agreed, but he didn’t cling onto the topic. “Kyuhyun snores like a pneumonic hippo. We once tried switching rooms, just for a change. It was a disaster.”

“Why?” Youngwoon asked, hiding his amusement behind the tea mug.

“It turned out that the only ones who could sleep in the same room with Kyuhyun were the three who had already shared the room with him before,” Leeteuk said and shook his head. “You know, nothing can awaken Donghae once he falls asleep, and Sungmin simply isn’t disturbed by any noise either. He simply goes to sleep when he wants to. Eunhyuk usually wakes up easily but he, too, had gotten used to that brat’s snoring. So in the end we switched back and never tried again.”

Youngwoon pictured the situation in his mind and laughed aloud. Leeteuk laughed along with him. He was beautiful when he laughed like that, Youngwoon thought. He especially fancied the small wrinkles that appeared into the corners of Leeteuk’s eyes, and the ridiculous noise of Leeteuk’s high-pitched laugh never stopped amusing him.

One by one, Leeteuk went through everyone, describing their funny habits and embarrassing old memories. Each one of them made Youngwoon like the men even more.

“What about Heechul,” he asked when he suddenly realized Leeteuk had said nothing about the man.

“Heechul,” Leeteuk said slowly and looked down at his tea mug. “We’ve been friends since we were children. He was my best friend then and he still is. He grew up to be the best… man I’ve ever met. He’s courageous and deliberate, and determined to protect what’s precious to him, even if it’d cost his own life.”

Leeteuk shook his head and let out a soft laugh. “He’s always been there for me. I wonder what I did to deserve such loyalty.”

“I think I understand him,” Youngwoon murmured and finished the tea that had already gotten cold on the bottom of his mug.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. Just thinking aloud.”

“Fine,” Leeteuk, chuckled. “Keep your secrets. Except for one. Since I’ve told you so much of myself and my friends, I really think it’s just fair that you share a secret or two about yourself as well.”

Youngwoon took a moment to think what he could tell. He had already told many things about himself to Leeteuk before, and there were some things he’d never say aloud.

“I was among the oldest in my group when I did my military service,” he finally offered. “Most of the guys were around twenty. I was twenty-five when I enlisted. Twenty-seven when I got out.”

“How old are you?” Leeteuk asked curiously. “I don’t think I’ve asked before.”

“I’ll be thirty this year.”

“By calendar years or the chronological system?”

“The latter. I was born in 1985.”

“So young,” Leeteuk grinned, making Youngwoon chuckle.

“It’s not like you’re much older,” he pointed out and Leeteuk shrugged sheepishly.

“It’s just that you look at least thirty-five or so.”

“Geez, is that a compliment or what,” Youngwoon snorted, and yawned right after that.

“Time to go to sleep?” Leeteuk suggested, and Youngwoon reluctantly agreed with him. He could have spent the whole night like that, just talking and laughing with Leeteuk.

“Thank you,” Leeteuk added when they got up, “for keeping me company.”

“Anytime,” Youngwoon promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Romeo and Juliet: Act 5, Scene 3, Page 14](http://nfs.sparknotes.com/romeojuliet/page_286.html)


	6. Chapter 6

“Hi,” Youngwoon said, poking his nose through the door of the biggest bedroom in which Sungmin was currently sitting alone by his desk. “Am I disturbing you?”

“Come in,” Sungmin said, smiling. “What’s up?”

“Kyuhyun came into our room to practice for his role in Robin Hood, and wanted Leeteuk’s comments on some parts,” Youngwoon explained and closed the door after him. “It got quite noisy there so I escaped. Is it okay if I sit and read here? Just continue whatever you were doing.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Sungmin said, smiling and beckoning towards the four beds in the room. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Youngwoon gave him a thankful nod and lay down on one of the beds. He supposed it was Donghae’s; there was a worn t-shirt hanging on the foot end of the bed, and Youngwoon remembered having seen the same shirt on Donghae some day on the past week. He opened the book he had been reading earlier, and looked for the right page for a moment. The book was quite an old print but it didn’t bother Youngwoon much; the techniques of using one’s voice on stage hadn’t changed much in the last few decades. The small noise of Sungmin’s pen on the paper and the low murmur of his voice as he read the text aloud every now and then made the atmosphere peaceful and comfortable.

Youngwoon liked the feeling of peace the whole house seemed to radiate. Of course there were noisy moments as well, especially when all the men gathered into the kitchen to have dinner together, but even then the loudness of their voices wasn't disturbing at all. Instead, he enjoyed the feeling of having such wonderful people around him. It was like he, the only child of his family, had gotten ten new brothers at once.

The thought made Youngwoon’s chest swell with affection towards these men, and he secretly raised his gaze from the book to look at Sungmin who still kept writing. On the way his eyes met a small photo frame on the night table between the bed he was lying on, and the next bed. The colors of the photo were dull and yellow-shaded, the same way Youngwoon’s own childhood pictures were. Interesting image processing, he thought when looking at Sungmin’s familiar, smiling face on the photo in the frame. Next to him there was a young woman, and Youngwoon saw Sungmin had wrapped his arm around the woman’s waist.

 _To my own Musketeer,_ said the small hand-written text on the corner of the photo. Youngwoon thought he knew who the woman was.

“It was taken after our last show in _The Three Musketeers_ ,” Sungmin said and Youngwoon winced. He hadn’t noticed he had stared at the photo such a long time. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“She is,” Youngwoon agreed. He wanted to say something more but he wasn’t sure what it could be. “I… uh. My condolences. It’s a pity that such a young person should be taken away.”

“Yeah,” Sungmin said with a wry smile that somehow didn’t fit into the situation at all. “I hope we can meet once more, when the time comes.”

Youngwoon nodded again. He wasn’t a religious person himself but he had nothing to say against those who were. Who knew, maybe Sungmin was right about it, and the woman was waiting for him in Heaven? No-one in the world of living people could tell for sure, anyway.

“It’s okay,” Sungmin said, glancing at Youngwoon and offering him a small smile. “I bet someone told you to not talk about her with me. Wookie, maybe?”

Surprised, Youngwoon could only admit Sungmin was right.

“Thought so,” Sungmin said and leaned his chin against his palm, looking at the photo again. “He’s such a caring guy, even if he’s completely mistaken my feelings. I don’t mind talking about Saeun.”

“You don’t?” Youngwoon asked and rolled himself into a sitting position to feel more alert in the conversation.

“Of course I don’t,” Sungmin said with a warm, longing laugh. “She’s the best thing I ever had in my life. But it makes me sad, of course. I guess that’s why Wookie and everyone else, too, think they shouldn’t mention her. They don’t want to make me sad.”

“What happened?” Youngwoon asked, sensing it was all right to ask. As far as he could tell, Sungmin looked like he was burning to talk about that woman, Saeun. He wondered how all the others could have read the man’s behavior so wrong.

“We were in Japan,” Sungmin said, “taking part into a culture event for performance arts. We performed the Three Musketeers several times in Tokyo and Kyoto. There… there was an earthquake on our way back to Tokyo. Our bus got buried under a landslide.”

“I’m sorry,” Youngwoon said. He understood. Of course he did; it wasn't that long since the whole world had followed the news of the terrible earthquake, distraught by the extent of destruction.

“Sometimes I think I was luckier than her,” Sungmin murmured, staring hard at the papers in front of him. “Why did she have to suffer so much, while I never even felt any pain?”

“I’m sure she’s all right now,” Youngwoon said, wishing he could sound more convincing.

“She is all right. I know,” Sungmin said, smiling even when wet streaks of tears crossed his cheeks. “Damn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a crybaby. It must be awkward for you.”

“I don’t mind,” Youngwoon promised. “It’s not wrong to cry when you miss someone that much.”

 

\- - -

 

_The season changes without Youngwoon giving much thought to the passage of time. He knows for sure he’s stayed more than a month, but he doesn’t think it’s been two months yet._

_It’s nothing he worries about, but every now and then he has a strange feeling of having forgotten something important._

 

\- - -

 

Youngwoon was sitting on the edge of the stage in the stage hall. He was keeping company to Ryeowook who had curled up into the corner of the sofa at the back of the stage and fought with his lyrics again. Yesung was there too, sitting on the floor next to the CD-player with headphones on. The man had his eyes closed and his head was nodding with the rhythm when he hummed along the new song he was trying to get familiar with.

In his hands Youngwoon had another one of the dozens of theater-related books there were in the bookshelves of the house, but he had forgotten about the book a long while ago. Instead, he was looking out of the window, behind which the sun was shining bright up on the sky and the refreshing wind of early summer made leaves dance on the branches of the trees.

“I’d like to go out,” he said. Ryeowook’s pencil fell to the floor and rolled out of the man’s reach.

“Don’t,” he said while getting up to retrieve the pencil.

“Why not?” Youngwoon asked with a low laugh. “It’s been a while and it’s such a nice weather.”

“You can’t go without Leeteuk’s--” Ryeowook started but hesitated in the middle.

“He means you shouldn’t go without asking if Teukie hyung wants to go along with you,” Yesung filled in, taking off his headphones. “He’s been working so hard with the arrangements of the new play, he hasn’t even had time to go for a walk lately.”

“Oh,” Youngwoon said eagerly. “Do you think he’d like it if I asked him to come with me?”

“I’m sure he would,” Yesung said and smiled. “Go ahead and see.”

“I will,” Youngwoon said, partly to Yesung, partly to himself. He jumped off the stage, without noticing how Yesung and Ryeowook exchanged a long look after him. 

Leeteuk was in their room, discussing some character’s lines with Heechul when Youngwoon entered the room. Leeteuk was glad to join him when asked, and the three men left the room together.

“Take care,” Heechul said, standing in the hallway and looking after the two men when they left.

 

“What have you been doing today?” Leeteuk asked when they crossed the yard and turned to follow the pathway uphill.

“What I usually do here,” Youngwoon chuckled. “I was in the stage hall, hanging around with Yesung and Ryeowook. They were working though.”

Leeteuk nodded. “They really like working together.”

“They tag along with each other a lot,” Youngwoon said, remembering the afternoon he read Ryeowook’s lyrics the first time and wondering if he should take up the topic or not.

“They do,” Leeteuk admitted with a small, gentle smile. “One could say they were destined to find each other. Some people are like that.”

Youngwoon simply nodded when he found out he didn’t know what to say.

They kept a good pace, striding uphill and talking about the same things they always did; acting, dancing, singing. They were all things Youngwoon could have kept on talking forever. The slope was rather steep, and he soon found himself out of breathe. That, combined with the brightness of the sun was making him feel dizzy, and he slowed down a bit.

“Are you all right?” Leeteuk asked, stopping to wait for Youngwoon to reach him.

“Yeah,” Youngwoon gasped in breathless confusion. Surely he couldn’t be that unfit yet even though it had been while since he had been out the last time. It was as if his whole body was protesting against going further away from home.

“Come on, there’s a place I want to show you but it’s a bit further away,” Leeteuk said and reached over to take Youngwoon’s hand into his own. Then he simply continued walking, dragging Youngwoon after him like a big and tired ragdoll.

Yet somehow, he immediately felt better. Leeteuk’s hand was warm and his grip on Youngwoon’s hand was firm. Every now and then the man turned to look back at Youngwoon, and Youngwoon felt his heartbeat speeding up for a reason that had nothing to do with the physical exercise.

“Here we are,” Leeteuk said when they had been walking another fifteen minutes. In front of them the slope temporarily became less steep, spreading into a flat area after which the path continued uphill again. There was some grass growing on the flat - by the midway of summer the grass would be burnt yellow by the sun - but right at the moment it was still green. “This is my place whenever I want to be alone,” Leeteuk continued. “It makes a perfect run of a day when you climb up here and go back again.”

“I bet,” Youngwoon huffed and sat down into the grass to catch his breath for a moment.

“That's a good idea,” Leeteuk said and sat down next to Youngwoon, never letting go of his hand. "We can sit and wait here until you feel better." Youngwoon had a weird feeling that he was only feeling better because of the hand that held his own. 

The sun was shining upon them, warm and bright, and they sat there for a long while without either of them saying a word.

 

“So you do believe some people are destined to meet each other?” Leeteuk asked out of the blue and glanced at Youngwoon before looking ahead again.

“I guess.”

“Do you believe in people being reborn? If destined people don’t manage to meet here, do you think they’d eventually find each other in one of their next lives?”

“I don’t know,” Youngwoon admitted quietly. He looked down where Leeteuk was still holding his hand and gently playing with his fingers. It felt comforting and really good at the same time; the way Leeteuk ran his fingertips across Youngwoon's palm and finally interlaced their fingers. Even then he kept on slowly brushing the side of Youngwoon's palm with his thumb.

Youngwoon wanted to ask Leeteuk why he was doing so but he was afraid the man would stop if he did, so he kept his questions in. Instead, he continued with the earlier topic. “But I know rebirths and next lives require one dying first. I would rather meet my destined other in this life.”

“So would I,” the Leeteuk whispered and looked up into Youngwoon's eyes. Youngwoon found himself wondering why he had never noticed how dark a shade of brown the other man's eyes were.

Leeteuk's hold on Youngwoon's hand tightened a bit. Youngwoon wasn't sure if the man himself noticed it, all the same it was about as much as he could take. With his frantic heartbeat roaring in his ears, Youngwoon leaned in to capture Leeteuk's lips into a tentative kiss. Leeteuk inhaled sharply agaisnt his lips but didn't pull away. Instead, he shifted closer and returned the kiss with doubled eagerness.

All of a sudden, Youngwoon didn’t feel tired at all anymore. All the inexplicable anxiety that had gathered upon him while walking was gone. The only thing occupying his mind was the way Leeteuk pressed against him and tilted his head aside so Youngwoon's lips only touched the corner of his anymore. 

Without hesitating Youngwoon sprinkled small kisses on Leeteuk's cheek and jaw, nuzzled his nose against the man's neck and then reached up to gently nib on his earlobe. A shiver and a small whine of pleasure were telltale signals to Youngwoon; he was doing it right, and he was definitely willing to keep on doing so. 

Burying his hand into Leeteuk’s short hair, Youngwoon pulled the man closer until Leeteuk had to correct his posture or he’d lose his balance and fall on Youngwoon. Youngwoon couldn't say he would have minded that, either. During that short moment of separation their eyes met again, and the way Leeteuk looked at Youngwoon made his chest ache with longing. He was quite sure no-one had ever looked at him like that; as if Leeteuk had already been waiting for him for more than just one life.

Maybe they really had been destined to meet.

It would have been so simple to get completely carried away, and when Leeteuk pressed his forehead against Youngwoon's, Youngwoon let out a hoarse laugh.

"Wow," he gasped, "that was..."

"Don't even try," Leeteuk murmured, "You won't find the right words."

Youngwoon had to admit Leeteuk was right. But since he couldn't express himself with words, he leaned into a new kiss. 

“We should go home,” Leeteuk whispered against Youngwoon’s lips after a while. “It’s dinnertime soon. Wookie will be angry if we’re late.”

Youngwoon almost wanted to say he didn’t care, but for some reason he couldn’t. True, he would have liked to be alone with Leeteuk much longer, but at the same time he also wanted to get back quickly. Something was pulling him back home and he couldn't say no to that instinct-like feeling.

 

Heechul’s eyes narrowed sharp when Youngwoon and Leeteuk returned. For a moment Youngwoon wondered if the man had ever left the hallway.

“What a coincidence,” Heechul said to Leeteuk, pointing at the kitchen door with his thumb. “Just a moment ago Ryeowook asked me if I knew when you’d come back. Go ask him what it was he had to say. And you,” he added, looking at Youngwoon. “Come here.”

Youngwoon gave Leeteuk a confused look but the man shook his head and shrugged. He had no idea what Heechul was up to, either.

Without a word Heechul pushed Youngwoon back out of the door. He followed Youngwoon to the stair landing and made a point of pushing the door properly shut before looking at Youngwoon again.

“You,” he snapped. “What did you _do_ to him?”

“What do you mean what did I do?” Youngwoon snorted. Sure, the innocent afternoon walk had turned into something else but how could Heechul already know about it?

“He’s _glowing_ , that’s what I mean,” Heechul said, scrunching his nose. “Look, I’m only saying this once, and you better remember my words.”

“No need to be so dramatic,” Youngwoon said, frowning. “What is it?”

“I warn you,” Heechul said, poking Youngwoon’s chest with his index finger. “One wrong move - you only hurt him once - and I swear I’ll haunt you for the rest of your miserable life, and a thousand years after that.”

“Who says I’m going to do so?” Youngwoon asked, frowning in annoyance. “I would never hurt him!”

“We’ll see,” Heechul said. “You better not betray my trust.”

“If this is how you show me trust, I wonder what your distrust looks like,” Youngwoon scoffed.

“Don’t play with your luck. You really don’t want to know,” Heechul said with a sudden, twisted smile. “You're safe as long as he's happy. Now come on, the dinner is waiting and the others will wonder where we are.”

 

That evening, when Youngwoon was in the middle of changing into a borrowed t-shirt, there was a noise of the door opening and closing behind him. On the same moment the room suddenly went dark.

“Huh? Can you switch it on for just a moment, I need-”

“There’s only one thing you need right now,” Leeteuk murmured, stepping in front of Youngwoon and taking the t-shirt from his hands, “and it’s not this shirt. Not the light either.” Leeteuk’s breaths tickled Youngwoon’s neck. On the bare skin of his chest he felt the warmth radiating from the other man's body.

“What do you want?” Youngwoon asked, his palms rising up by instinct to hold Leeteuk’s waist when the man inched even closer into his arms.

“Sing to me again,” Leeteuk whispered into Youngwoon’s ear, his fingertips ghosting on Youngwoon’s arms. “Like you did that one day.”

Understanding dawning on him, Youngwoon smiled. He leaned a bit down to press his lips on Leeteuk’s temple, kissing him there and feeling the tickle of the man’s hair against his cheek.

_Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation.  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination.  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses..._

Leeteuk answered with a pleased hum and guided Youngwoon's lips onto his neck, to continue from where they had left earlier that day.

It was everything he had ever imagined, and even more.

Leeteuk’s touches drew a burning path of pleasure when they traveled across Youngwoon’s body, exploring every nook and corner. _Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender._ Youngwoon concentrated on holding the man’s slender body in his hands, leaving a trail of kisses on the small area of bare skin showing in the neckline of his shirt.

“Take this off,” Leeteuk murmured, lifting the hem of the shirt. Youngwoon had no objections to that.

The dark piece of fabric fell to the floor. Youngwoon felt a rush of heat run through his veins when Leeteuk closed the distance between them again, wrapping his arms around Youngwoon’s neck and pulling their bodies together, skin against skin. _Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams!_ A pair of lips met another, and everything outside their room suddenly became meaningless. Everything that wasn’t Leeteuk was meaningless to Youngwoon.

The other man’s lips on Youngwoon’s were demanding and gentle at the same time. So were his own hands that kept trying to feel everything at once; the firmness of Leeteuk’s muscles, the softness of his skin, the shivers that Youngwoon’s fingers caused whenever he found the right places to touch. _Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind!_ Youngwoon let his hands travel lower, where Leeteuk’s hips were already a making small, involuntary rolling movement. He followed in daze how Leeteuk’s eyes fluttered shut with a shaky exhale when Youngwoon reached down to touch him directly.

_Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world,  
Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before!_

“You want me, don’t you?” Leeteuk gasped, holding his hands on the both side of Youngwoon’s head. His stare was dark and intense, yet slightly clouded by the pleasure when he locked his gaze on Youngwoon's eyes.

“I do.”

“Take whatever you want. I'm all yours.”

_Let your soul take you where you long to be.  
Only then can you belong to me!_

Youngwoon walked Leeteuk to his bed and lowered him down onto the sheets. The man’s smile was warm and willing when he reached his hands up and pulled Youngwoon down to lay on him.

_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication.  
Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation!  
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in,  
To the power of the music that I write!  
The power of the music of the night._

 

Warm and content from nose to toes, Youngwoon pulled Leeteuk tighter against him and pushed a sweaty strand of black front hair aside so he could see the man’s eyes better.

“Not bad,” he whispered and pressed a kiss on the man’s forehead.

“Thanks, the same,” Leeteuk murmured, pulling the duvet cover across his shoulder.

“My feet are getting cold,” Youngwoon whined and grabbed the edge of the duvet with his toes, pulling it back down.

“My neck is getting cold,” Leeteuk complained back. Youngwoon rolled his eyes and tucked on the duvet cover until there was one corner covering his feet and another covering Leeteuk’s shoulders at the same time.

“Better?” he asked, and got a content hum from the man in his arms.

“Say,” Leeteuk pondered, “you do know the story of Alice in Wonderland, right?”

“Seriously, man,” Youngwoon moaned. “Please tell me you are not thinking about work on a moment like this!”

“No, really,” Leeteuk insisted, “do you know the story?”

“A nosy little girl gets lost into a whole different world full of weird people and bizarre creatures,” Youngwoon recited. “She gets scared by all the abnormality and wants to go home. Luckily she then wakes up and finds out it was all just a bad dream.”

“What a positive image you have,” Leeteuk chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not one of my favorites,” Youngwoon said, shrugging. “Too much weirdness and too many unfriendly people. No wonder she didn’t like it there.”

“But,” Leeteuk rushed to interrupt him, “say, Kangin. If the people in the Wonderland had been nicer to her from the very beginning, don’t you think she would have liked to stay with them? She wouldn’t have missed her home if she had had it good there, right?”

“How would I know,” Youngwoon snorted, but something in Leeteuk’s eyes told him it was the wrong answer. So he added, “Maybe? It’s not about where one lives, I guess. It’s the company that matters.”

“Thought so too,” Leeteuk said, sounding tired yet delighted at the same time. He rubbed his cheek against Youngwoon’s shoulder. Judging from his slow breathing, he was at the verge of falling asleep. Youngwoon was drowsy as well but there was still something bothering him.

“Hey,” he whispered, brushing Leeteuk’s cheek with his thumb. “Just one more thing.”

“Mmh, what is it?” Leeteuk murmured from his side.

“Just call me Youngwoon, won’t you? It feels weird to be called by some other name after what we just did.”

Leeteuk stiffened in Youngwoon’s arms but never said a word. It was completely silent in the room for a long time. Youngwoon only vaguely realized he hadn't gotten any answer from the other man before he drifted asleep.

In the morning, Youngwoon woke up alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Music of the Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=77umP7IRxD4)from the Phantom of the Opera, again.


	7. Chapter 7

_It’s hard to describe the feeling. How to explain the combination of confusion, hurt, disappointment, agony, and annoyance?_

_Who would listen to him, even if he tried talking?_

 

\- - -

 

Youngwoon didn’t see Leeteuk the whole day.

What he did see, though, were the unsuccessfully stealthy exchanges of looks between the other men. When Youngwoon met Kyuhyun at the stairs, the younger man looked at him without a word, and then turned his eyes away. Apparently Eunhyuk was avoiding to looking at him at all, while Sungmin kept looking at him all the time. Youngwoon wasn’t sure which one was worse, Ryeowook’s silent empathy or Shindong’s forced attempt to talk and joke as though nothing had happened.

He was sure everyone knew what was going on - except him.

After three more days had passed, Youngwoon felt like he’d go crazy if the others would keep on acting normal one more day. Luckily, on that day, he finally saw Leeteuk again.

It was early morning, and Youngwoon didn’t feel like staying in bed anymore. He needed to get some fresh air. Before he got out of the main doors downstairs, however, he winced as he heard a familiar voice through the narrow gap of the kitchen door.

At first he considered walking into the kitchen and forcing Leeteuk to meet him and talk to him. But when the volume of the noise grew higher, he decided not to go in. Instead, he leaned against the wall next to the door and glanced through the narrow space between the door and the doorpost. 

Eavesdropping wasn’t a pretty thing to do, Youngwoon knew, but he didn't give a shit about that anymore.

Leeteuk was there, standing in the middle of the floor and staring at Heechul. His hands were shaking and his tight voice cracked when he spoke again.

“I can’t do this anymore! Can’t you see? He’s strong and healthy, and _alive_! I checked last night. It’s been days and he’s still alive. We need to kick him out of here before it’s too late!”

“You know we can’t do that,” Heechul sighed, which seemed to enrage Leeteuk even more.

“We have to! I can’t let him die just like that!”

“Listen to yourself,” Heechul said in such a gentle tone, Youngwoon had never heard it from him before. “You know it’s not possible.”

“It must be!” Leeteuk hissed and turned to look out of the window, squeezing his hands into fists. The bright sunrays shining through the glass lighted up his face and Youngwoon's heart ached when he saw tears rolling down the man’s cheeks. He didn’t understand what was going on. Whatever it was it sounded creepy. But he was much more shaken by Leeteuk’s tears and the pained look in his eyes.

“We could make it quicker,” Heechul offered after a moment of silence. “I can take care of it. You don’t have to be there, if that makes it easier.”

“You won't kill him!” Leeteuk cried out, turning around and grabbing Heechul’s collar. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you fucking dare…”

Heechul let out a deep sigh, wrapping his arms around the other man’s shaking shoulders and pulling him into a tight hug.

“Cry,” he simply said, stroking Leeteuk’s back with his palm in slow, big circles. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Quiet, angry sobs filled the air in the kitchen. Youngwoon, feeling pale and weak, turned around on his heels and returned to his and Leeteuk’s room. There, sitting on his bed, he went through the conversation he had just heard.

It was just too much. Leeteuk’s long absence and his desperate words about someone (Youngwoon?) being still alive. Heechul’s attitude and rather disturbing promise to take care of the problem. Everyone else’s silence whenever they looked at him. Their unwillingness to use his name.

Youngwoon had a vague remembrance from his childhood, when the pet cat at his grandparents’ farm had gotten kittens but his grandparents weren’t able to keep them all. Youngwoon’s grandfather had only allowed him to give a name to one of them. “Naming a creature makes you attached to it,” his grandfather had said. By the evening, the named kitten had been the only kitten left.

Was that the problem? Couldn’t he be called by his name because they didn’t want to get attached to him? And the talk about him being alive. How long would he still be alive? What kind of a murderous community of insane people he had crammed himself into?

Youngwoon was quite sure he should have left the house immediately and never return.

He found himself unable to do so. It was as if some invisible force was stopping him. Curiosity, maybe? Or maybe he was just stupid enough to stay.

Whatever the reason, it was obvious that no-one was going to volunteer him any information. So he’d have to find the information by himself.

Another thing Youngwoon remembered from his childhood was that the best place to look for anything interesting would be the attic. Youngwoon wasn't quite sure what he thought he'd find up there. A pile of weapons needed when committing a murder? The hidden bodies of these men's former victims?

Don't be ridiculous, Youngwoon told himself. Yet he couldn't quite silence the suspicious voice inside his head.

 

The narrow wooden staircase to the attic was right next to the door of Shindong, Siwon, and Heechul’s room. Youngwoon had been aware of it all the time, he just hadn’t had any reason to go sneaking upstairs. Now he definitely did.

He pushed the door of the attic open, careful not to let it creak. He found a string of thread hanging next to the door and pulled on it, switching on the light.

There was someone staring directly at him. 

Youngwoon flinched, only barely suppressing a cry. The next moment got him taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment. It was nothing to be that afraid of; just an old painting that happened to hang on a nail of some roof truss. It was a picture of a young, notably charming woman. There was something familiar in her features but Youngwoon couldn’t quite grasp what it was. He ripped his eyes off the woman’s dark eyes and tender smile, and turned to look around.

It was like any attic Youngwoon had ever seen; there were some pieces of furniture around, covered with sheets that had once been white but were now covered with dust. Dozens of cardboard boxes lay everywhere around. More paintings were hanging around any spare nails, and some had even been left to lie on the floor in a neat pile. All the paintings portrayed people, Youngwoon suddenly realized. Now that he thought about it, he had never seen any people in the paintings elsewhere in the house; only landscapes, flowers, animals, and other nonhuman things. What was wrong with paintings of people?

In one corner there were some uncovered cardboard boxes full of old magazines. Youngwoon crouched to pick up the one on the top of the closest pile and patted off a heavy layer of dust from the cover. It seemed to be some cultural release from several decades backward. The paper was yellow and fragile, the photos black-and-white, and the language on the pages old-styled. Most of the text was written in Japanese and even the few articles written in Korean were so full of archaic Chinese characters that Youngwoon couldn't have read it all even if he had wanted to. 

Youngwoon chuckled in amusement when he slowly spelled his way through an article about some popular group of actors. Some things didn’t change even in a hundred years, it seemed. People had always admired those who could entertain them, and would always keep doing so. On the next pages there was a serious analysis about the contemporary state of theatrical art but Youngwoon didn't have enough patience for trying to make sense of the text.

In a drawer of an old writing desk, Youngwoon found something even more interesting. There was a neat pile of letters, tied together with a time-worn silk sash.

Youngwoon opened the sash and took a look at the first envelope. It was addressed to Park Inyoung but the name didn’t ring any bells for Youngwoon and dated to April 1932. Careful not to break anything he opened the envelope and fished the actual letter into his hands.

Judging by the handwriting and the form of the letter, it was most probably written by a woman to another woman. It was a very ordinary letter; the sheets inside were filled with girlish dreams and musings, as well as juicy gossips about the writer and the recipient’s mutual acquaintances.

_”I can’t wait for the next time I can come visit you!_

_Take care of yourself and always remember your most faithful friend!_

_Yours, Heejin.”_

The next two letters were from Heejin as well, but the tone of the text was much gloomier.

 _”Sometimes I’m worried,”_ Heejin wrote. _”People here are gossiping about a possibility of a war. My brother believes they're right.”_

_"I’m so tired to act like a Japanese woman. What’s so wrong in being Korean? How can they imagine they could make us forget who we really are?”_

_"My dearest sister! I’m speechless in front of the tragedy you’ve met. Oh how I wish I could be there with you now! Stay strong. Your mother and brother need you. I need you too."_

After Heejin's letters for Inyoung there were some envelopes that had been marked with the official military stamp, and long parts of the letters had been censored.

 _"Don’t worry about me, sis. We’re doing fine, and I’ll be back soon. Surely it can’t go on for a long time anymore."_ (Several lines were missing.) _"Take care of mother, and tell her I love her. "_ (Another missing line.) _"Greetings from your little brother, the Greatest Soldier in Korea!"_

_"I wonder if you could find a new pair of socks and send them to me with your next letter? The old ones are triple-patched and I gave my change pair to a soldier who had lost most of his own equipment during a battle. Tell Heejin his brother is a jerk who called me an idiot after that. But that guy really needed the socks more than I do. Thank you beforehand._

_They will move us to a new location tomorrow"_ (The rest of the line and two following lines were censored.) _"I'll write the new address on the envelope. Take care! Tell mother I love her."_

The last envelope had Park Inyoung’s name and address on it as well but there was no letter inside. The envelope was filled with clippings from magazines and newspapers. The first clippings were news about Japanese victories at the battlefront; those that had Korean soldiers involved. As Youngwoon leafed through the pile he also found older articles, dated a bit earlier. There were some poems published in different magazines, and a few profile introductions of famous Korean actors, of which even Youngwoon knew one.

One of the clippings made the blood in his veins freeze again.

The numbers on the corner of the paper told him the profile had been published in the magazine in September 1935. The paper was crumpled in corners but Youngwoon could still read without any trouble about the newest member who had joined the city theater: a promising young talent named Park Jungsu. The name was unfamiliar to Youngwoon but the black-and-white photo next to the text wasn't. Youngwoon felt as if he had swallowed a block of ice as he stared at the photo; the gentle, laughing eyes and the deep dimple on the left cheek.

Maybe things like that were heritable. It must be his father. No, the man on the photo was too young; in his early thirties, according to the birthdate on the profile. It must be his grandfather.

Once Youngwoon came up with such a simple explanation, he felt something akin to relief and put the article away. It was time to go back down. The others must be awake already and Youngwoon didn't want them to wonder where he was. He hadn't found what he had been looking for - he didn’t even know what it could have been - but at least he had tried. Youngwoon put the pile of letters back into the drawer of the writing desk and left them there.

At the attic door he turned around, strode back to the desk and fished the one clipping from the envelope, pushing it into his pocket.

“Where have you been?” Sungmin asked when Youngwoon walked down and met the younger man at the second floor corridor. “We were worried about you!”

“Oh, I was just looking for new books to read,” Youngwoon said, going for a light tone. So they had noticed, after all. He guessed it was for the best if he told the truth. “I thought there might be some at the attic.”

“You went to the attic?” Sungmin asked, frowning. “You shouldn’t have. It’s a creepy place.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Youngwoon said, choosing his words carefully. “Especially the paintings were quite eerie. Say, who is the woman in the first painting right opposite the door?”

“I guess she’s someone who lived here long ago,” Sungmin said, his shrug indifferent. “I don’t know, to be honest. I’ve rarely had any reason to go up there.”

“She was a real beauty,” Youngwoon said, secretly observing the man’s reactions. “Do you think anyone would mind if I retrieved the painting from the attic and brought it down here? It’s such a waste to keep it hidden.”

“Don’t!” Sungmin blurted, his eyes suddenly rejecting. “Kangin, please. There are things you'd better leave on their own devices.”

“You might be right,” Youngwoon admitted, giving himself a mental pat on the back. Whatever dirty secrets the residents of this house were hiding, it was obviously a high time to bring them into daylight.


	8. Chapter 8

To everyone’s surprise, Leeteuk took part to the dinner that evening. The eleven men were gathered around the long table of the kitchen, but the atmosphere was lacking its usual glee. Every now and then Eunhyuk and Donghae made up some lame jokes but no-one laughed at them, and the two men soon stopped trying. It was as if there had been a heavy, poisonous cloud hanging across the table, obvious to everyone even though no-one mentioned it.

“Did I ever ask you how you came to live here?” Youngwoon suddenly asked Siwon whose smile was too wide and tone too carefree when he shook his head.

“I don’t think you did. I tried to apply into a college for theatre studies for several times, but I failed every time. A friend of a friend knew these guys here and knew there was still room in this house, so I moved in, planning to study hard for a retry next year. As you can see, I never got into that school, but I found out I like it here and stayed. That’s all,” he said and offered Youngwoon a warm smile before concentrating on his dinner again.

“You found out you don't want to leave, or that you are not able to leave?” Youngwoon asked, and enjoyed the two seconds of complete silence his question caused.

“I really like it here,” Siwon said in a firm tone, refusing to look at Youngwoon anymore.

“This is a nice place indeed,” Youngwood agreed with him. “But, you know, sometimes there’s a bit deserted an atmosphere, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?” Leeteuk asked. He was smiling as always, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Youngwoon felt a painful pinch somewhere in his chest. It was the first time Leeteuk had properly addressed him since their night together.

“I’m not sure,” Youngwoon said and shrugged. “Maybe… if the rooms were a bit more furnished? Especially the stage hall looks rather gloomy with only a few chairs and the bookshelf in there. Some more furniture might help.” He glanced at Shindong whose face was vary even when he nodded in agreement.

“Well, why not,” Leeteuk said slowly. “I’m sure Shindong will help you with the task. Where would you get the new furniture from?”

“From the attic,” Youngwoon said, looking right into the man’s eyes. “I see there are several pieces of useful, if rather dusty furniture.”

There was a shocked gasp that someone didn’t quite manage to suppress, but Youngwoon kept staring at Leeteuk.

“Kangin,” Leeteuk said in a quiet voice, “It’s dangerous to go up there. The house is old and the attic floor might break anytime.”

“Oh, it carried me well enough,” Youngwoon said with a joyless smile. “I also found several beautiful paintings up there,” he continued. “My favorite one was the young woman wearing a crème-colored hanbok. The one right in front of the doorway.”

“Kangin!” Sungmin hissed, his eyes wide in horror. “Didn’t I tell you to-”

“I guess I need to apologize though,” Youngwoon continued, blatantly raising his voice over Sungmin's warnings. “I found a pile of letters and I couldn’t resist reading some of them even though they weren't addressed for me. Tell me, who is Park Inyoung? Could she be the woman on the painting?”

“That's none of your business!” Heechul interjected, but Leeteuk silenced him with a short wave of his hand.

“Drop it right now,” Leeteuk whispered to Youngwoon, his voice shaking and his face white with anger. “You should never have gone up there.”

“I’m curious though,” Youngwoon insisted, raising his voice just a little bit. “Are you sure you're not hiding something? It sure smells like some shady businesses here. There are many curious things, aren’t there? Secrets, stories…”

“Kangin,” Leeteuk growled, “I swear, if you don’t-”

“Stop calling me that! That is not my name and I will never answer to that name!” Youngwoon was frustrated and angry, and more than a bit creeped out. "My name is Kim Youngwoon, and you’d better get used to it. You could as well start getting used to hearing your own name because that is what I’m going to call you from now on, _Park Jungsu_!”

It had been just a wild, ridiculous guess. Of course he couldn't be true and yet he was a hundred percent sure he was right. The multiple, simultaneous gasp around the table confirmed his suspicions.

“Fuck you,” Leeteuk - Jungsu - hissed, tears welling up into his eyes, “why couldn’t you just listen to me, for once?”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have tried to hide so many things from me,” Youngwoon suggested, his tone challenging and sharp.

Jungsu stared at him without blinking for a good moment before he almost knocked his chair over when he stood up and stormed out of the room. Heechul stood up as well, but Jungsu was gone before he managed to catch him.

The shocked silence around the table was apt to fuel Youngwoon’s annoyance. He had come to the dinner ready to dig up some answers, and answers he was going to get. He pulled the old actor profile clipping from his pocket and slammed it onto the table, throwing sharp glances at the men around him.

“Which one of you wants to explain me?” he demanded. “One of you will. I’m not stopping before I know exactly what the fuck is going on here! Why must everyone be called by fake names and why is it such a big deal? Why can’t I go out alone? Why is everyone in this house so goddamn weird? Why is Jungsu's face on this... _thing_? Is it a joke or what? And what the hell is wrong him?”

“Oh, don’t call him that,” Ryeowook pleaded. “You don’t understand!”

“Then make me understand,” Youngwoon said without a hint of empathy. “Or do I have to dig up your name, too? Ryeowook sounds like a good, ordinary name for me. How about we add you a family name, does it do the magic? Who are you; another Park? Lee? Kim?”

“Don’t you fucking understand clear Korean?” Shindong asked, standing up as well. “Stop with the names!”

“Make me,” Youngwoon said, glaring at the other men. There was a long silence before Sungmin sighed and looked at Youngwoon with sad eyes.

“He’s scared,” he said reluctantly. “He’s awfully scared.”

“Of what?”

“Sit down, everyone. I think it’d be for the best if we started from the beginning,” Eunhyuk took over, getting a thankful glance from Sungmin. The men around the table slowly obeyed him, looking down at the food that no-one wanted to eat anymore.

“This house was his home,” Eunhyuk started, glancing around the kitchen. “He lived here with his parents, grandparents, and his older sister Inyoung. She was, indeed, the woman on the painting. As you guessed."

"But the date on the letters--"

"Don't interrupt me," Eunhyuk said, narrowing his eyes and Youngwoon fell into defiant silence. 

“This actor profile here was published before the war, as you can see," Eunhyuk continued, nodding towards the piece of paper on the table. "Leeteuk was a promising guy. It wasn’t that he was an incredible singer or dancer, but he was a mood maker, a great organizer, and an amazing leader to whichever group he ever had to work with. He could have made a great career as a producer or a director of any city theatre.”

“What happened?” Youngwoon asked, trying his best to cut the sharpness from his voice.

“The war happened," Heechul said bitterly.

"Even during the war, he was always hopeful for the future. He kept saying it wouldn't take long. Until the air bombings down in the city,” Eunhyuk said, shaking his head. “He lost half of his family at once. Of course it wasn’t anything unusual, things like that happen in war. But, you know. It broke him. He never talked about it to anyone, but I know it did. Anyone who looked into his eyes could see it. I think his mother and sister were the only reason he managed to keep on.”

“He had made a promise to his sister,” Donghae continued when Eunhyuk’s voice cracked. “He had promised he’d come back home and take care of her and their mother as soon as the war ended. He was killed at a battle soon after that, but he kept his promise. He came back here and kept an eye on his mother and sister until the mother died. Inyoung was already married by then and when she and her family moved away, the house was left empty. So we took it over.”

“No, wait,” Youngwoon said slowly, looking from a man to another. “You're saying…”

“Whatever you think he is, you’re probably right,” Eunhyuk said with a wry smile. “I know. I was there with him. So was Donghae. And Heechul.”

“Don’t lie to me. You cannot actually mean you’re all…” Youngwoon murmured, unable to finish the sentence. He somehow felt as if the whole thing might make more sense if he just didn’t voice out his thoughts.

“I guess ‘ghosts’ might be a word you’re looking for,” Donghae suggested. “I’m not sure if that’s exactly what we are but at least it’s close enough. You could say we’re ghosts in our personal little otherworld.”

“Each one of us,” Kyuhyun confirmed, his smile eerie with its calmness. “I died of Spanish flu pretty much a hundred years ago.”

“I got sent between the Chinese and the Japanese armies in the Sino-Japanese war,” Yesung said.

“Korean war,” Shindong murmured after him.

“A car accident about twenty years ago,” Siwon admitted. “That’s why I never got into the theater school.”

“Stabbed by a drug addict on my way home from work,” Ryeowook said softly. “Last summer.”

Trying to digest what he had just heard and being desperate to find a logical, plausible explanation, Youngwoon let his gaze wander across the silent row of men. He stopped at Sungmin, looking at the man as if he could somehow turn the world to its right direction again. Sungmin seemed to guess Youngwoon's thoughts. He shook his head and smiled at Youngwoon apologetically.

“I told you Saeun is fine, remember? She’s been happily remarried for almost forty years now, having two beautiful daughters and five grandchildren. As for me,” he continued and lowered his gaze for a second before looking up into Youngwoon’s eyes again, “the Izu Peninsula earthquake, 1974.”

It didn’t make sense. None of it did. Youngwoon felt dizzy. He leaned his head against his palms, trying to force himself to understand. It must be a cruel joke. These guys had an awful sense of humor, that was all.

“The reason we don’t want you to call us by our names,” Sungmin continued, “is because we _like_ it here. We’re happy now. We don’t want another afterlife. We want to stay here.”

“How would your names change that,” Youngwoon asked, his mind completely blank. It was as if his body was actively refusing to go into a shock. Some kind of a primitive feature, he figured.

“Nicknames will fool death,” Donghae said. “When you refrain mentioning the deceaced person's name, the messenger of death won’t find them. That way we can stay here forever.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Youngwoon gasped. “All this shit because of….that? Guys, it’s _a myth_. Haven’t you ever read any history books? Back when child mortality was still high, people did whatever they could to keep their kids alive. That's why they used to give them nicknames! No-one believes into that shit anymore.”

“Are you sure?” Yesung asked, suddenly alert. His eyes were wide and his cheeks red with excitement. “Do you really think we could use our names?”

"Yes," Youngwoon snorted. “Definitely.”

“No,” Ryeowook gasped, his face whitening in horror. Yesung reached over to squeeze the younger man's shoulder, smiling apologetically.

“I’m sorry, Wookie, but I need to try it out. It's my fault we're like this, so I should be the one to try fixing it. Besides, I’ve spent a long time enough without my name, wishing I could have it back. I want to be Kim Jongwoon again.”

Seconds passed and Jongwoon didn’t show any signs of a dramatic disappearance. After some time Ryeowook let out the breath he had been holding and kicked the man’s ankle under the table.

“You stupid, stupid… man. Never do that again!”

Jongwoon chuckled, smiling at the man. “I promise you I won't, Kim Ryeowook.” Then he turned to the others, hanging his head in guilt. "I... I'm sorry. I really did think-"

"It's fine," Donghae interrupted. "I'm just happy I can call this moron Hyukjae again," he said, giving the said man a playful punch in his arm while offering a smile at Jongwoon at the same time.

With a mild amusement Youngwoon followed how each man gathered the courage to say their own whole names aloud for the first time in ages. It might have been even funnier if the awareness of someone missing hadn't been nagging on the back of Youngwoon’s mind.

“Where’s Jungsu,” he finally dared to ask. “Why isn’t he coming back? I didn’t… I didn’t hurt his feelings that bad, did I?”

“You’re such an idiot,” Heechul huffed. “You really cannot see whenever a poor old relic is in love with you, can you?”

“He is?” Youngwoon asked, unable to help the tiny sparkle of hope that immediately lighted up again. He had wanted to believe it would be so, but the way Jungsu had abandoned him that one night had gotten him hesitant about the man's true feelings.

“He does like you,” Heechul clarified, as if he was talking to a slow and stupid child. “That’s fine. Now, there are just three minor obstacles. Number one: in order to be with you, he needs you dead. Number two: he doesn’t _want_ you dead. And three: he too thinks using his name will force him into some deeper afterworld, away from here. Should that happen, he could never be together with you at all. See the problem?”

Youngwoon had to admit he did.

"Can't we run after him and tell him to come back?" he tried. "He must have already noticed he's still in this world, nice and secure!"

"Go ahead," Heechul said, crossing his arms and raising his other brow. "Go and see if you can run after a ghost who actually wants to stay hidden."

“But he doesn't need to! I like him too and I want nothing as much as be with him!" Youngwoon said, flailing his arms helplessly. "I promise I'll gladly be his forever if he still wants me after another sixty years!" The mere thought brought a painful, squeezing feeling his chest. He didn’t even want to think about living without Jungsu for such a long time.

“Make that seven,” Heechul said with a weird, disturbing grin, “hours.”

“Oh, no I won't. I overheard your conversation,” Youngwoon said, shaking his head and mentally preparing to defend himself if needed. “Whatever you’re planning, it’s not going to work. I’m not going to let myself get killed just like that!”

“No-one has to kill you,” Heechul said without any mocking or sharpness left in his voice. Instead, he truly sounded friendly. “Why do you think you can see us? Why do you think you’re here with us?"

"The presence of a dead soul attracts others of the same kind, did you know that?" Jongwoon asked, taking a look at Donghae, Hyukjae, and Heechul while he continued. "That's how I found those four at the military hospital when I was still wandering around. And that's how the rest found us here."

"That's why you found us," Heechul took over again. "This is your afterworld as much as it is ours, Youngwoon."

“Wait, I am going to die?” Youngwoon asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

“Now that you finally realized it, yes,” Heechul murmured, giving a pointed look to Siwon and Eunhyuk who were standing next to Youngwoon. “Your body is broken beyond repair. Once a soul is separated from the body long time enough, the body will die. Recognizing the separation will make it permanent. You took quite long actually; almost three days. I’m impressed.”

Heechul could have slapped Youngwoon on the face and it would have shocked him less. Youngwoon couldn't be dying - he didn't _feel_ like a dying person at all. He felt very much alive and didn’t want to die! He wanted to live - he wanted to live with these men he called his friends and considered his brothers.

He was scared and suddenly felt dizzy again. He raised a hand to rub his temple and only saw a glimpse of Ryeowook's worried face before the world went black.

Youngwoon only vaguely registered strong, warm hands taking a firm hold of him on the both sides before his legs went limp under him. Then the sensation faded and he was alone in the dark.


	9. Chapter 9

_It’s raining. Youngwoon feels the droplets of warm water on his face. They fall on his cheeks and neck one by one, slowly rolling down his skin. One of them reaches Youngwoon’s ear and he frowns at the feeling. He must be lying down. There are more droplets, and one of them falls on his lips._

_It tastes salty._

 

\- - -

 

With a startle, Youngwoon woke up and his eyes fluttered open. There was something hovering over him. No, someone. Jungsu was there, leaning over Youngwoon’s body. Another wet droplet fell on Youngwoon’s forehead and he blinked a few times.

“Hey, you. Don’t cry,” he murmured and tried to lift his hand to wipe the tears off the man’s face. He soon found it too hard and let the hand fall back to the mattress. “What's going on?”

“Shh,” Jungsu whispered and took Youngwoon’s hand into his own, squeezing it tight. “Don’t be afraid. You’ll be all right soon. Everything is all right now. I’m sorry I was so harsh to you earlier.”

“Are you going to run away again?” Youngwoon asked, his eyes wandering across the other man’s face as if staring at him could keep him there.

“No,” Jungsu whispered and leaned down to press a gentle kiss on Youngwoon’s lips. “I’m going to be with you forever now.”

 

\- - -

 

_On a narrow pathway that leads down from the mountain, a cheerful group of hikers pass an old, shabby mansion. It has once been a magnificent proof of fine architectural skill and good taste for interior decoration, but it’s already been abandoned for more than fifty years. It’s not safe to go too close to the ruins anymore, due to the broken glass lying everywhere on the ground, and pieces of roof tiles that sometimes fall down. Through the glassless windows one can see that a big part of the roof of the first floor has collapsed, bringing down large parts of the second floor as well. Most of the wooden parts of the mansion are covered by moss, and trees taller than a man are growing inside the building near the windows._

_Shortly after passing the ruins one of the hikers notices a gap on the fence following the pathway. It’s broken and twisted outwards, as if it had been pushed with something heavy. She takes a step closer, looks down, and screams for help._

_An ambulance arrives after a while, but the young man down there is past their help._

 

\- - -

 

“Good,” Youngwoon said and intertwined his fingers with Jungsu’s. “Then I guess I could take another nap before dinnertime. Will you sleep with me?”

With a teary yet content smile, Jungsu lay down and curled up to Youngwoon’s side, and closed his eyes. 

When Heechul climbed upstairs two hours later, he found the two men sleeping together so soundly, he couldn’t bring himself to wake them up. He quietly closed the door again and went back downstairs where he told Ryeowook to put their shares of the dinner aside for later.

When everyone sat down around the table and started eating, Heechul thought about the two men upstairs, and smiled.

It was a high time for Jungsu to be happy, as well.

 

\- - -

 

_You alone can make my song take flight.  
Help me make the music of the night!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Music of the Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=77umP7IRxD4) from the Phantom of the Opera


End file.
